


For Real

by seaweedredandbrown



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: 5 Times, Drunken Confessions, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 04:33:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7962592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaweedredandbrown/pseuds/seaweedredandbrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five Times Newton Geiszler (drunkenly) Confessed to Hermann Gottlieb (and one time he did not).</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Real

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spocktome](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=spocktome).



The first time happens right after they’ve met - well it’s been three years since the first letter, two hours since they shook hands, and one hour and fifty-eight minutes since they parted ways snarling insults at each other.  
It’s also forty-seven minutes since they resigned themselves to sitting next to each other on the last two free stools at the hotel bar. They’ve been steadily drinking and bickering for the better part of that time when Newton blurts out, “I love you, but you’re an idiot,” and then proceeds to insult Hermann like he just found him in his mother’s bed.  
Hermann thinks he misheard and drowns his confusion in over-priced scotch and the nastiest comebacks he can come up with.

It’s not like the day could get any worse, is it?

_ _ _

Hermann does not think he will ever see Newton again and thus does not see the second time coming. It happens roughly thirty-six hours after they have been assigned to the same lab. They started bickering some eighteen hours ago, the welcome party thrown by their teams has been going steadily for two hours and fourteen minutes, and the two scientists have managed to ignore each other for almost half an hour now.

They’ve taken their positions near a bowl of definitely spiked punch in the furthest corner of the room, and they’re now debating the merits of… napkins? They were talking about the Fourier transform a second ago, but now it’s _napkins_ they’re having a lot of conflicting opinions about.  
There is comfort in that verbal warfare: they’re the only ones who can keep up with the other, who then occupies their mental and social sphere with something that’s, if not pleasant, at least safe and known. Something under control.

It stops being safe, known and under control when Newton drops a well-timed “Fuck you and fuck everything you stand for, I can’t believe - I can’t believe I had to fall for *you* of all people, with your stupid face and your-”

Hermann doesn’t get to hear the rest, because he has thrown the contents of his glass into Newton’s face in a drunken stupor, which turns their somewhat discreet arguing into a full-blown shouting match.

_ _ _

Hermann has spent as little brainpower as he could on the budding feelings tightening his chest. He realised their existence sometime after the letters started - passionate, intense, soul-opening - and their futility after their first meeting.  
It hurts, of course it does. But there is nothing to be done about it: Newton has made his enmity very clear. Those two drunken confessions, out of place and highly illogical, are outliers that should not be taken into account.

This is why the third time takes him by surprise. He’s at the Chois’ wedding. Homemade liquor is flowing down everybody’s throats like a river into the sea and newly-weds have never been this happy. Everyone is having a good time and, if only for a few hours, it sort of feels like the world is not ending.

Yet whoever thought that inviting _him_ was a good idea certainly holds him in high esteem but overestimated the amount of loud Chinese pop songs he can suffer through.  
Hermann’s been looking for an escape route all evening, but politeness absolutely forbids him from leaving the reception so early; he has taken to standing on one of the balconies outside the room rented for the occasion. The music still pulses through the closed door, but at least there’s some fresh air… and Newton, leaning against the guardrail, seemingly lost in thought.

Hermann pretends not to have seen him and remains as far away from his colleague as possible. He focuses whatever energy he has left into willing himself into soberness.  
It works until Newton, stumbling back towards the door, stops by Hermann’s side and deadpans, “I’m in love with you, asshole.”

To his credit, Hermann tries to run after him, but Newton is nowhere to be found, not seen by anyone, anywhere, and behaving perfectly normally the next time they meet, if not a bit hungover.

‘ _Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times, it's enemy action._ ’  
Hermann absolutely refuses to take advice of any kind from villains in British spy stories, but three times - three times start to be a bit too much to be outliers, don’t they?

Yet it contradicts the rest of the data at his disposal. Newton might be known to take anyone willing to bed, no matter the sex or gender, but thinking he may be interested in Hermann of all people is a little bit of a stretch. There is no sign, no body language, nothing that could hint towards anything other than a personal dislike and a well-hidden professional respect towards his person, is there?  
Only one hypothesis stands up to inquiry: Newton knows of Hermann’s feelings and is making fun of them.

This stings more than Hermann wishes to admit, which is why, come the fourth time, he is ready.  
Sort of.

_ _ _

The fourth time happens not too long after the third one; at this point, they’ve been having shouting matches for years, flying chalk sticks and Kaiju entrails on the wrong sides of the lab.  
Their relationship has evolved into something that works, shaped by their intellectual brilliance and their willingness to sacrifice everything for the sake of their work.  
Their shared hatred pushes them to always try and outsmart the other; this is how they’re going to save the world.

But the fourth time is not born out of a nasty fight or an impending crisis; it occurs, quite unexpectedly, on Christmas Eve.  
Now, neither of them technically celebrates Christmas, but Newton somehow got hold of a few bottles of mulled wine and taunted Hermann into a toast or six.

They’ve spent a quiet evening, on their own, in their lab, getting as drunk as… as… as very drunk K-Science Officers, yes. There might have been nostalgic recollections of childhood in Germany, there might have been some admissions that the other is, broadly speaking, not ‘that bad’. Dear god, there might even have been some _carol singing_.

Hermann has just called it a night and is hobbling to the door when he hears Newton slurring from behind, “I love you… Dude, I love you so much it fucking hurts.”  
Hermann stands frozen for a solid thirty seconds before remembering that he is supposed to be ready for this, that he’s going to stand for himself and not let that cockroach of a man play with the deepest turmoils of his heart.

… Whatever is it that he has planned to say, already?

“This has to stop,” he starts, “you have to stop…”

But when he turns around, Newton is fast asleep on the couch. The gall of that man!  
Hermann covers him with his old leather jacket and leaves without another word.

_ _ _

The fifth time - Hermann doesn’t wish for a fifth time. He wishes for peace, the burying of his feelings under chalk dust, the drowning of his infatuation in cyphers.  
Newton bangs on his door one night. It’s a quarter to three a.m. and he’s presumably on his way back from a little get-together with the newly arrived Australian J-tech team.

Hermann himself is perfectly sober. He was also very much sleeping, but breaking the ‘no contact outside the lab’ rule at such an ungodly hour can only mean an emergency. He gets up, passes his robe and opens his door to the most shitfaced biologist he’s ever had the displeasure of seeing.  
Shirt undone, lipstick stains everywhere, reeking of booze and sweat - the very picture of drunkenness itself.

For a moment, they stare at each other. Newton is smiling, giggling, rocking from one foot to the other.

“… Yes?” Hermann asks after a while.  
“The Aussies, they… they really know how to party,” Newton answers.  
Hermann pinches the bridge of his nose.  
“Did you just wake me up to-”  
“No! Shit, no, that’s not what I meant. Shit, I had something to say, shit, something important, wait, I can’t remember, shit…”

Newton’s hands dance in the air, his eyes dart left and right, looking for whatever it was his inebriated brain deemed urgent to convey. Then his face lights up in epiphany, he points at Hermann and his whole body leans forwards; but he’s drunk as they come and loses his balance, almost dropping to the ground if Hermann had not caught him in his fall.

“Newton, are you al-”  
“You!”, Newton proclaims in pure delight, “It’s YOU I love so much. Yes. Even if you smell like my grandfather’s socks. I love you. Yes. That’s what I wanted to say. I love you, Herms.”

His green eyes are shining in the yellow night-time light of the corridor. His smile is wide and bright. His skin is warm under Hermann’s touch.

Hermann has never felt so _angry_.

“No. No, you don’t. You do not get to knock on my door at two forty-six in the morning to… to mock me. It is beneath you, Dr. Geiszler, and it is beneath me. This silly game of yours will cease at once… or so help me God.”  
And - bam! - he closes his door as harshly as he can.

There might be some more banging.  
There might be some shouting.  
Some “But you don’t understand!”.

Hermann goes back to bed and buries his face in his pillow.  
Yes, he does understand. He understands very well.

There had better be no sixth time.

_ _ _

There is no sixth time.

_ _ _

The first time happens six minutes after Ranger Beckett and Miss Mori have been rescued from their escape pods.  
The world is saved.  
Newton’s arm is wrapped around Hermann’s shoulder, and they’re smiling, floating in the post-Drift afterglow of their Pyrrhic victory. So many lives lost…  
But the world is saved. For now, at least.

Around them LOCCENT is already a giant party, one that slowly but surely extends to the rest of the Shatterdome. It’s going to be chaos and mind-altering substances, utter joy and crushing guilt, until they all pass out from sheer exhaustion. And then it will be work again, papers to sign and debriefings to go through, but for now…

For now they are still walking on the blue bridge of thoughts, feelings and emotions that connects their souls. This bond feels as natural as breathing; they are welcome under each other’s skull. There they are appreciated, understood, and loved.

 _Loved_.

Yes, they are loved.  
What a novel, amazing idea.

Newton turns to Hermann, realisation slowly dawning on his face.  
He opens his mouth, closes it and opens it again.

“Dude… for real?”  
“Yes, Newton,” Hermann sighs. “For real. You're an idiot, but I love you.”

They kiss.  
It’s the first of many.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lovely [@spocktome](http://spocktome.tumblr.com/) \- the two of us were having quite the rough week, so I came up with a little fluff to cheer us up.  
> Thank you Tessa for the spellchecking and a thousand thanks to Fapple for their quick and thorough beta-reading!
> 
> ... As well as thank _you_ for reading this, I hope you enjoyed it. Kudos are lovely and comments absolutely make my day. Constructive criticism is welcome!  
>  I can also be found on [tumblr](http://seaweedredandbrown.tumblr.com).


End file.
